


golf

by r0wlets



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Gen, ghetsis day 2015, old stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0wlets/pseuds/r0wlets
Summary: Golf is a rather pleasurable pastime. Oneshot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> (Original notes: Age range is from 18 to 30. Cunning Harmonia heir in place? Check.)
> 
> Originally written June 6th, 2015 on tumblr for Ghetsis Day. Ghetsis has a lot of emotions and most of them aren't positive. That's just the kinda person he is.

_golf_

The only nearby sounds were the occasional Pidove coos, bolting out the morning songs for the day. Ghetsis strolled along the sidewalk, a nervous Zinzolin by his side as he carried two bags of golf clubs, plus supplies. The young lord’s most trusted advisor, against his own sound judgment, couldn’t help but look up and give his young lord a worried glance. Every time there was mirth and other amusement in that lone red eye, there was usually scheming behind the emotions. “Master Ghetsis, pardon my impertinence, but is it really okay to invite your associates while your parents are away?”

Ghetsis scoffed, waving a hand in dismissal. “Mother and Father wouldn’t notice even if they _were_ here. They much prefer tennis, of all sports.”

“But of all people, why him? He’s dreadfully-”

“Barbaric.” A faint smirk spread across the Harmonia’s face. “Also dreadfully strong. One day he’ll grow up to be an old, strong buffoon. Wouldn’t it be nice to toy with him while we’re still young?”

They stood by the starting point, waiting for what seemed like hours under the hot sun until a young man sprinted into the course, his shaggy red hair rustling in the wind. In a flash he made it to them, panting, and he outstretched his hand with a wide grin on his face. Ghetsis gingerly took it, noticing its sweatiness. “Ah, good morning, Alder. It’s nice of you to make it. You remember my assistant, Zinzolin?”

“Oh, yeah! Nice to see you again, Zinzi!”

Alder turned to shake Zinzolin’s hand, but the advisor dropped the golf bag, startled, and the golf clubs spilled out everywhere. While Alder helped him pick up the clubs, Ghetsis watched his guest, amused. His parents paid for a court of idiots to serve the family and bumble about while they half-assed the chores and rubbed at snot-filled noses, but none of the servants could hold a Litwick in entertainment, not in comparison to this fine fool he had found on one of the catering crews. To add to his delight, the fool even had aspirations in becoming a great pokemon trainer, with a Larvesta of all pokemon being his starter.

It was absolutely ludicrous, and yet Ghetsis decided to indulge this poor, country boy with his time for his own pleasure. Sometimes - it would be astounding to simpletons like Zinzolin and the others - all the money in the family’s estate couldn’t buy this kind of gold. What dignified person would go to a golf course with such an unkempt appearance, made up of such wild hair and oversized, hand-me-down garments. And to think the fool had the nerve to even think about approaching him with such normalcy, with that dopey, overconfident smile plastered on his face.

How badly did Ghetsis wanted to break him from the inside-out, until he could only retch out his organs every time he tried to speak. His broad body would also make at least mediocre compost for the green; his parents were sure to approve, the absentminded environmentalists. But for now he had to maintain the mannerisms of a refined host and heir, and so he waltzed over to his companions, crouching down to take a golf club of his own. He was content with their awestruck expressions. They were probably wondering how he could keep such a cool composure under such idiocy. “Well, boys, aren’t we going to play?” he drawled, giving the golf club a soft practice swing in mid-air.

Zinzolin immediately went for the bag that he was supposed to be carrying as makeshift caddy. Alder scooped up a putter and pressed it against his shoulder. “I’ve never been on a real golf course,” he admitted, grinning. “Me and Dad always used to practice behind the barn with soda cans when I was younger.”

_What kind of game was this buffoon playing?_ Ghetsis thought, disgusted, but his words were much gentler as he guided the putter away from Alder’s hands. “No, no, you’ll want to use a driver to tee off, Alder. You need power for your first hole.”

“Any Pansear with a brain could see that a putter couldn’t make that distance,” Zinzolin added, snorting.

Alder squinted, glancing at the far-off hole with the Hole 1 flag fluttering beside it. “I suppose you’re right. Heh. I’m glad I got expert golf friends to guide me.”

They all laughed, but when Alder swung a few practice balls on the tee, Ghetsis stood behind Zinzolin and whacked the back of his legs with the putter. Squeezing a fist his advisor stumbled but did everything he could to keep upright while the young lord yanked on his ponytail. “Don’t you dare fuck this up, Zinzolin,” Ghetsis growled under his breath. “He’s _my_ toy, and if you try to play with him, I have six others _just waiting to be number one_ in your place. Understand?”

Zinzolin managed a nod before he dropped to the ground. Alder looked like was about to rush to help, but Ghetsis stopped the fool in his tracks with a light chuckle. “Don’t worry about him. His knees give out pretty easily.”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Zinzi. You should probably have that checked out.”

If only it were easy enough to club civilians as it was to club the help. For now he’d play with Alder and allow him to eat out of his hands like a common goat. At least he’d be good enough for golf practice. Smiling, Ghetsis placed one hand on his shoulder and offered the other to his pathetic underling. “Your form isn’t too bad for a beginner, Alder. If I didn’t know better, I would think you were being too modest.”

Alder shook his head, chuckling. Below them Zinzolin wobbled as he stood up, silent and unresponsive to his young lord’s rough, suffocating grip around his smaller hand. Ghetsis wished he could be himself and dislocate his dear caddy’s arm from the shoulder socket. He was sure it would make an excellent driver for his barbarian pal. “Well, if you’re not being modest, I’ll be sure to go easy on you,” he promised, his hand snaking up to Zinzolin’s arm. “I’ve won a couple of golf tournaments in the past, and it wouldn’t be fair to be so competitive. Let’s just have a nice, relaxing game”

“Well, thanks, Ghetsis. I’ll do my best. Hey, Zinzi, wish me luck!”

When Alder slapped the advisor’s back and actually knocked him back on the green with his brute strength, Ghetsis had to pull all of his restraints together from roaring out in laughter. This fool, this wild fool was all the entertainment he needed, and all the fool needed was a pat on the back and some empty words of encouragement. And it was unfair! so unfair that he had to pretend to be so gracious and kind while his help was wheezing on the ground, probably melodramatic and suffering from an insufferable asthma attack, while his companion stood by like some sitting log and did the damage on his own. Perhaps if he molded Alder in the right way, they could be an unstoppable duo, spreading such sadistic, mocking glory throughout the Unova region and showing people like Zinzolin where their true place was.

No, that was _disgusting_. To even _consider_ the possibility of an equal was something that he’d never allow to either himself or his family namesake. Gods be damned, his parents were already trying to tarnish the Harmonia legacy without even breaking a sweat or conscious thought. With their recent efforts of going green and shunning most of the large corporations that aligned themselves in the family for generations past, it was a miracle that they weren’t all laughingstocks by now. No, there was no way he could ever think mold Alder into his equal. With that headstrong personality of that fool’s, it wouldn’t work anyway.

But he still couldn’t laugh. He still had to bade his time. Alder was a plaything, nothing more than a practice partner. And Zinzolin still had to stay alive and able, at least for the time being. Throwing an inhaler at the back of the older man’s head, he moved on, careful not to ruin his golf shoes with last night’s mud. “Don’t dawdle, caddy,” he chided, smirking. “Alder and I need you.”


End file.
